


No Need to Ask

by apple_pi



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 13:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7441816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oopsadaisy,” Dom said; Billy lurched against him and then away, stumbling over his feet, scowling at them as though betrayed. Dom choked back a laugh. “Where’re the keys?”</p><p>Billy stopped beside his car. “Dunno. Oh. Pocket? Jacket? Coat?” He reached into his coat, half turning to squint down at it. Dom watched, grinning, as Billy turned in a complete circle, trying to get his hand into his own pocket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Need to Ask

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hiding](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967417) by [pippinmctaggart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart). 



> A followup of pippinmctaggart's glorious "Hiding" (linked above). If you read that first, this will make more sense.

“Oopsadaisy,” Dom said; Billy lurched against him and then away, stumbling over his feet, scowling at them as though betrayed. Dom choked back a laugh. “Where’re the keys?”

Billy stopped beside his car. “Dunno. Oh. Pocket? Jacket? Coat?” He reached into his coat, half turning to squint down at it. Dom watched, grinning, as Billy turned in a complete circle, trying to get his hand into his own pocket. 

“I’ll get it, okay?” Dom stopped Billy and patted his pockets until the keys clinked against his hands. He fished them out—Billy swayed where he stood, then clunked back against the car as Dom moved away—and unlocked the passenger door. “Come on, twinkle-toes.” Dom paused and peered at Billy. “You need to throw up?”

Billy looked away mulishly. “No. M’fine. Stupid fucking Bean, I could handle another drunk. Drink.” He flopped into the passenger seat and Dom closed the door.

Billy was silent on the ride home; when Dom unlocked the house, Billy pushed past him and made a beeline for the toilet. He didn’t bother to close the door, so Dom was treated to a full-audio symphony of Billy pissing for about a minute straight. He came out of the toilet with his trousers buttoned but unzipped, hair mussed, a scowl still pasted across his face. “You still here?” He looked away and stomped into the kitchen, crashing into the doorway along the way with a muttered curse. Dom followed, only to see Billy digging through the cupboards.

“What do you need?”

“Thought I had some whisky in here,” Billy muttered. He opened another cupboard.

Dom crossed the room, closing cupboard doors as he went, and steered Billy to sit at the little bar. “How about some water?” Once Billy was seated, Dom fetched water, then went to the loo for aspirins. “Swallow ’em down,” he said, returning and putting both before Billy.

Who jerked his head up off his own hand, looking mostly asleep and still decidedly cranky. “Bugger off,” he said, but he drank the water and tossed back the pills. “Fuck,” he said a minute later, and Dom grabbed for the rubbish bin, mostly in time.

Dom shoved the bin out the back door and took Billy to the bathroom again. “Shower,” he said, when Billy protested weakly, and Dom stripped him with ruthless efficiency and held him under the hot water until his face went from grey to pink; Dom twisted the faucet and cut off the water. “Need to throw up again?” Dom asked, and Billy shook his head mutely, shivering, eyes closed.

“Why’n’t you go home?” Billy asked, teeth chattering as Dom rubbed him all over with a towel. “With Elijah,” he added spitefully, and Dom clenched his jaw and tried not to slap Billy’s face.

“Lij can go home with someone else,” Dom said; he turned Billy and aimed him at the door. “Go put on some pants and get into bed.”

By the time Dom had washed the smoke and other, less pleasant, scents from his own body and hair, Billy was curled into a ball atop the covers, snoring and still nude. Dom dug through Billy’s bureau for a pair of boxers for himself, then went for more aspirins and water; when he got back he joggled Billy (gently) half-awake and made him swallow both; he watched carefully, but Billy didn’t turn green or show any other signs that he was about to be sick, so Dom chivvied him around till he was under the covers, then climbed under with him.

“Go ’way,” Billy murmured, and Dom sighed and rolled his eyes again.

“Shut it,” he said. “Go to sleep.” He touched Billy’s damp hair once and leaned over to kiss his ear. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You won’t be here,” Billy sighed, eyes already closed, and Dom swallowed and turned off the light.

“Yes, I will,” he whispered.

Billy started snoring again.

 

Dom woke up as the bed dipped and rose beside him; Billy’s bare-arsed form vanished through the door as Dom squinted, and the sounds that followed seemed to indicate that all was not well, Boyd-stomach-wise.

Dom rolled back over and stuck his head under the pillow for a minute, sighing to himself. “He better fucking love me,” he mumbled to himself, then groaned and crawled out from under the covers. 

A glance at the clock showed the time; half nine, and Dom rubbed his head and went to lean against the wall outside the toilet. “Need anything?” He carefully didn’t look into the room.

“Cyanide,” Billy said after a pause. “You c’n come in, ’f you want.”

Dom circled the jamb as the toilet flushed and Billy turned on the water in the sink. “I don’t think you’d be able to keep it down,” Dom said, and Billy nodded and bent to drink from the tap.

“Timezit?” Billy asked, spitting and then straightening, groping for his toothbrush. “Fuck.” He looked down at himself. “What’d you do to me?”

Dom handed him the toothpaste, lounging against the wall. “Nine-thirty,” he said. “I didn’t do anything except clean you up—I’m not quite so mad for you that I want to shag you when you’re paralytic.” Billy tossed him a bloodshot glance, then looked away and stuffed the toothbrush into his mouth. Dom sighed internally. “How you feeling?”

Billy grunted past the foam in his mouth.

“That good, eh?” Dom smirked and put his hand on Billy’s nape. He squeezed hard, rewarded by Billy’s eyes closing briefly. “I’m going to go put on some tea.”

Billy grunted again.

He shuffled into the kitchen a few minutes later wearing a t-shirt and shorts and propped himself at the bar, head in hands. “Why’d you bring me home?”

Dom turned away and pulled out a loaf of bread. “Did I mention that you were completely trousered?”

“I remember that part, yeah,” Billy said dryly. The kettle whistled and Dom hurried to slap it off as Billy groaned. “Fuck!”

“Sorry.” Dom poured water over the waiting teabags and then shoved the bread into the toaster. “I got you some more aspirins,” he said, but Billy had already seen the pills and the glass of water, and was swallowing them. 

“Ta,” Billy said. He folded his arms and laid his head on them, closing his eyes. 

Dom kept himself busy for a few minutes, trying not to think about the knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. What if Bean had been wrong? Billy certainly didn’t act like he wanted Dom. He acted like he wanted Dom nothing but miles away.

“Toast?”

Billy lifted his head and blinked blearily at Dom. “Christ, no. Tea, though...” He took the mug without looking at Dom, and hunched over it.

Dom settled across from him and began shredding his toast into crumbs. “So Elijah was pretty trousered last night, too,” he said at last.

Billy looked up. “Yeah.”

Dom met his eyes for a moment, then looked back down at his toast. “He gets all. Erm. You know? When he’s drunk.” He broke off a corner of the bread and tapped it on his plate. “He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

Billy sipped his tea, and Dom risked a glance. His face was unreadable. “What about you?” he said finally. “You weren’t drunk.”

He didn’t sound accusatory. He didn’t sound _anything_ , and Dom closed his eyes for a moment; cleared his throat. “Nope,” he said. “I was just... dancing. Having fun. I didn’t—” Dom took a deep breath and looked at Billy through his lashes. “I didn’t mean anything by it either.”

Billy looked away—toward the window, first, squinting at the sunlight, then down at his tea. “Hm,” was all he said, though.

Dom gave up for a while. He’d at least said something; he didn’t think his courage would take him any further for the moment. “Wanna watch a movie?” he tried.

“I just want to sleep,” Billy replied, and Dom sighed again and nodded. 

But he didn’t leave, and Billy, though he stopped on his way to the bedroom and looked at him (settled on the couch with his script and another cuppa), didn’t ask him to. Billy shook his head and disappeared.

 

By two-thirty Dom was going spare with boredom. He decided Billy’d had enough time to recover, and headed down the hall.

The bedroom was dim and stuffy; Billy had thrown most of the covers off and was sprawled across the mattress, deeply asleep. Dom sat on the edge of the bed and ran one hand down his back, then up again to rub his neck. “Hey.”

Billy stirred. “Mmmph.”

“Feeling any better? It’s half-two, you’d best get up if you want to sleep tonight.”

Billy made another vague noise and shifted slightly. Dom ran his hand down his back again and patted his bottom, soft cotton over firm flesh. “Hungry?”

Billy groaned and turned over; Dom lifted his hand away. Bill’s face was red and sleepy, hair damp with sweat. “Yeah, little,” he said; he opened one eye and squinted at Dom. “I thought you’d’ve gone home by now.”

“I want to be here,” Dom said. He looked at his hands.

Billy was still. “Because I’m such good company.”

“Absolutely.” Dom glanced up, smiling a little. He was relieved to see that Billy was smiling, too. “Especially when you’re passed out. The best.”

“Shut it, Monaghan, or I might start thinking you like me.” 

“For more than your gorgeous body?” Dom blurted, then kicked himself as Billy’s eyes flicked away. He swallowed. “Bill.”

“Hmm?” Billy had closed his eyes, and his face was calm, quiet: still.

“I like you. I mean, I, I—I wondered if maybe I needed to say that, if we needed to be. Together. More, ehm, than we are already, I mean. Because I like you, and I think maybe more, and if you fucking tell me I sound like a girl I’ll clock you, I swear to Christ,” Dom was glaring at his hands, twisting in his lap, “but it seemed like it bothered you, me dancing with Lij last night, and I really didn’t mean anything by it because I kind of, not just _like_ you, I mean, I—”

“Dom.”

Dom looked up, eyes caught by Billy’s, fully aware he looked like a fool. “What?”

Billy smiled—a quirk of his lips, eyebrows raised. “Are you trying to say something incredibly pathetic like you—” he swallowed, but his eyes never wavered— “you might, perhaps, _love_ me, you miserable bastard?”

Dom ignored his sudden desire to cover his face with his hands and hide his blush. “Don’t be an idiot,” he murmured, grinning, grabbing Billy’s hand in both of his. “‘Course I do.”

“Oh.” Billy nodded, and Dom saw the sudden flush that stained his cheeks, and the way his smile widened. “Okay, then.”

They sat looking at each other for a minute, and Dom felt the uncontrollable urge to giggle rise up in his chest. He cleared his throat, instead, and squeezed Billy’s hand before releasing it. “So go brush your teeth, so I can kiss you already,” Dom said.

Billy fluttered his lashes, but sat up, wincing a little as his back popped. “Y’know,” he said, stopping to rub his hands through his hair and yawn, “y’know, true love wouldn’t care if I brushed my teeth or not.”

Dom rolled his eyes and pushed at Billy, ushering him off the bed. “I didn’t say _true_ love. I said _love_ , and just to be clear, it’s the kind that wants,” Dom stood and came right up close to Billy, leaning to speak into his ear as his hands slid down Billy’s sides, narrow waist and hips, Dom’s fingers slipping around to splay on his arse and _grip_ , “wants to kiss you kind of, hard,” Billy was, Dom found when he pressed their hips together, and he certainly was himself, “and do other things to you, that involve beds and nudity and my tongue being in several places, including your mouth,” Billy’s hands tightened on Dom’s biceps, and Dom heard his breathing stutter, “so go brush your teeth.”

Billy breathed in and out unsteadily for a moment. He swallowed, and Dom licked his jaw just as Billy spoke: “Just this once I’ll overlook your shocking lack of, ehm,” Dom bit him, “ehm. Romance.”

Dom turned him and slapped his arse to shoo him out of the room.

Billy squeaked and jumped away, disappearing out the door before Dom could change his mind and grab for him again. Dom busied himself stripping off the few clothes he’d acquired through the day, and had just turned to straighten the duvet when he was attacked from behind and sent sprawling across the bed. “Augh!” he yelled, but he was laughing, groaning as Billy pinned him and pressed himself—oh, he was naked again, that was “good,” Dom gasped—into Dom’s body, mouth latching onto Dom’s nape. “That was too quick,” Dom protested, but his heart wasn’t in it, and Billy laughed into his ear.

Anything else Dom might have said was lost, because Billy lifted himself just enough to let Dom turn over, and then they were kissing and Dom couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but wonder what the hell he’d been thinking, why he’d waited so long to see this, to fucking _taste_ it, feel it in the way Billy’s palm curved against his cheek, hear it—moments, minutes, hours later—in the soft, jagged noises Billy made as he moved steadily within Dom’s body, eyes open, lips parted, leaning down to kiss Dom again and again until it was too much, too deep, too strong, and Dom arched and had to close his eyes against it as he cried out into Billy’s mouth and came, falling, shaking, head thrown back, grounded and sent flying by Billy’s body heavy atop his, by the high, uncontrolled sound of Billy’s orgasm and the feel of it, slick tight wet within Dom.

They lay mashed together for long moments, both panting, sticky and boneless. Finally Billy groaned and rolled off Dom, hissing as he pulled out. “Christ,” he said, and Dom reached blindly for him, finding bare sweaty skin and letting his fingers rest on it.

“Hmm, yeah,” he said. “Good.”

“Hmmm,” Billy agreed. Dom turned his head; Billy was blinking at the ceiling, smiling, looking mussed and flushed and completely ravished, which seemed unfair, as it was Dom who’d been ravished... then again, Dom thought, maybe I look just as good. He grinned.

“I’m starving,” Billy said, letting his head roll to the side. His smile shifted to a grin, responding to Dom’s expression maybe, Dom didn’t know, didn’t care. “What?”

“Me, too,” Dom said. “What’re you making me?”

“ _Moi?_ ” Billy’s eyes went round. “I believe I’m making you call for take-away.”

“Ah, true love.” Dom fluttered his lashes and sighed happily.

 

“What happened?” Bean didn’t say the next day; there was no need. Billy and Dom were in the mess tent when he was finished in makeup, and who needed to ask? Billy and Dom were sitting on one long bench, facing away from the door, not looking at one another. Looking, in fact, at Elijah and Sean and Orlando, and at Orlando’s attempts to get an entire orange (unpeeled) into his mouth. Billy was egging him on with various unlikely encouragements; Dom seemed to think that Viggo might be very, very impressed if Orli could, in fact, get an entire mandarin orange into his mouth. Billy’s thigh was pressed tightly enough to Dom’s that Bean doubted a toothpick could be slipped between them; as Bean watched from the doorway, Dom reached up to squeeze the back of Billy’s neck. Billy’s shoulders twitched upward, then relaxed; Bean caught a quick flash of his profile, turned toward Dom, and the curve of his lips said more than words ever could, so who needed to ask?


End file.
